


Abience

by blueberryconstellations



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Regression, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Asexual Character, Asperger Syndrome, Bad Dumbledore, Bisexual Character, Canon Divergence, Dark Harry, Depression, Eventual Dark Harry, Gay Character, Good Malfoys, Good Slytherins, Good Snape, Horcruxes, I have asperger's so i know what I'm talking about, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, PTSD, Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Sane Voldemort, Sentient Hogwarts, Side thing, Slytherins, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Tom Riddle can love goddammit, agere, but it is not the main plot, harry and oc are main characters, lots of people will get to live, mental health, more characters will be added, others will die, this is not a bashing fic, trigger warning, undecided pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-07-23 05:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20003170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberryconstellations/pseuds/blueberryconstellations
Summary: ' “During the summer, a girl came through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. It was brought to the Wizengamot in an emergency meeting, and it was decided that she would be housed in the Department of Mysteries for testing and questioning. The following day, she disappeared altogether.” He paused. “Before the girl was taken, it was gathered that she was from an alternate universe, however, she seemed to know a lot about our own.” 'A realistic look at the effects of war, and just what would happen if one day, a girl was tossed through the Veil, knowing a bit too much to be safe.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get better after the prologue, I promise. And Harry will make his entrance in Chapter Two (3 on this).

**Prologue**

Severus paused, mid-step, as the echo of screaming bounced around the walls of the corridor. It was coming up to 2am, meaning most students were in bed, most teachers as well. This meant he could safely deduce the screaming was not the result of some trivial, childish banter. A sinister edge formed onto the next echo; Severus could hear the pain behind it.

A familiar, golden magic brushed up against his, startling him momentarily. He hadn’t felt it in a while, not since he was a student, but it took him no time to identify it. The magic of Hogwarts was laced with warmth, love and ferocity in an intriguing blend – the aura of a mother. In the past, it had comforted him and led him to safety. Now, however, it was whispering danger. Though the whispers were indistinguishable, Severus understood what the castle meant. _“Save her.”_

Another scream rang in his ears.

Letting Hogwarts guide him, Severus strode purposefully through the corridors. He clung to the shadows, absently casting a disillusionment charm on himself as he did so – a charm he could do wandless, thanks to years of spying – and silencing his movements. Adrenaline rushed through him and his body tensed. Preparing itself for battle.

Hogwarts stopped him outside an unassuming door. It was just a corridor away from the headmaster’s office and Severus couldn’t remember having seen it before. It was a route he had memorised over the years so this unsettled him. He knew near-to every inch of the castle and yet this door, this suspiciously plain door, sparked no memory.

Severus ducked behind a pillar as the door began to open, clutching his magical aura close to himself. Footsteps sounded against the stone floor, halting after a couple of seconds, before continuing, gradually fading as they got further away. Severus waited twenty minutes, then moved out from behind the pillar.

He stopped a few centimetres from the door, drawing his wand. A string of detection charms announced an array of wards, each he was keenly familiar with. It took a while, but eventually he built his own ward around them, ensuring that his presence would not trip their alarms. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

A girl lay crumpled on the floor. Muggle clothes hung off her skinny frame, torn and ragged, and just as dirty and bloody as the skin it poorly covered. Her hair was long and coated in filth, preventing Severus from being able to tell its colour, and her eyes tightly screwed shut. The sickening smell of old and new blood heavily perfumed the air, forcing itself down his nose and throat, choking him. The scene reminded him strongly of the war; the dungeons of both sides had looked and smelt like this.

Severus knelt down beside the body and pressed two fingers to her neck. She didn’t stir but there was a pulse, weak and failing. He swallowed. There was no doubt in his mind that she would die soon, should she not receive immediate medical attention. If he took her, the one who had done this would know, and come looking. If he didn’t, she would die.

Once again, Hogwarts surrounded him, and there was a shimmer in the air to his left. He turned. An exact replica of the girl before him now lay in the window’s silver light. A golem, to fool the perpetrator, to fake the girl’s death. Hogwarts retreated with an exhausted sigh: he was now on his own.

Gathering the girl in his arms, the potions master swiftly exited the makeshift cell, casting a disillusionment charm on the girl as he went. He dissolved the ward quickly, being sure to leave no evidence of disturbance.

The walk to his quarters was an unfortunately long one, even with his wealth of knowledge on the castle’s secret passageways and staircases. He set the girl down quickly on his bed, before heading to his fireplace.

“Malfoy Manor,” he stated clearly, throwing the Floo powder into the flames. Getting down on his knees, he stuck his face into the emerald flames.

The world flipped and suddenly he was viewing the receiving room of Malfoy Manor. Almost as soon as his face appeared in the connecting the fireplace, a house-elf popped into view, bowing low.

“Fetch Narcissa Malfoy immediately,” he commanded. “Tell her to come to my quarters at Hogwarts and bring her healing kit. It is an emergency.”

The house-elf bobbed its head, disappearing.

Severus pulled his head out of the fireplace and stood in one smooth movement. He didn’t have to wait long before Narcissa was stepping out of his fireplace, a case in hand. Her usually carefully controlled features were torn with worry.

“What is it? Is it Draco?”

“No.” She relaxed. “I don’t know who she is, but she will die without your help.”

Lady Malfoy gave a curt nod. “Lead the way.”

Severus led her to his bedroom, where the girl lay, still unconscious. Already, the blood that layered thick on her body was seeping into the air. Narcissa let out a gasp.

“Where did you find her?” she demanded, pulling out her wand and beginning to cast charms over the body.

“In a room not far from the headmaster’s office,” Severus answered, his tone clipped. “Hogwarts led me to her.”

“Do you know who did this?”

He gritted his teeth. “No.”

The blonde nodded, turning to concentrate on her work. Severus remained silent, watching as his friend began to chant, casting detection spells and monitoring charms over her patient. When she stopped, her lips were pressed thin.

“We will need the Draught of Living Death. She must be put into a coma.”

“Anything else?”

“Some energising potions. We are going to be here for a while.”

Narcissa underestimated just how long the pair would stand beside the girl, wands out and various potions at the ready – some for later, some already spelled into her bloodstream. The extent of injuries was unprecedented; whoever had done this had been doing it for a while: lacerations, fractures, heart and lung damage, infection, blood poisoning, overexposure to the Cruciatus curse, malnutrition, internal bleeding…

It was early morning by the time they had finished. Narcissa let out an exhausted sigh, closing her healer’s case with a definitive _snap_.

“I’ll return this evening, after curfew,” she said, straightening. “To wake her.”

Severus looked over at the girl. His room had been turned into a hospital ward, the patient laying perfectly still, a drip feeding her. Her newly washed skin was a snowy pale colour, almost translucent with sickness, and her hair faded pink: she looked so small and young lying there. Rage filled him when he thought of the state she had been in; hurting children was the most despicable of acts.

“Thank you for your help.”

The day passed slowly, and Severus assigned no less than 10 detentions by dinner, his exterior particularly waspish and short-tempered. More than anything, he wished it were a weekend – or better yet the holidays – so that he could return to his quarters. Not only was he sleep-deprived but filled with fury and worry after the events of the last night. Someone in Hogwarts was hurting children, so much so that the castle herself had intervened.

Grateful he was not on duty, Severus returned to his quarters shortly after curfew had fallen, coming back from his first house meeting of the year. The Slytherins had caught onto his foul mood and so did not bother him unnecessarily, allowing him to wrap the meeting up quickly.

Narcissa was already waiting for him when he entered, along with, unexpectedly, Lucius, who matched his wife’s graveness.

“He has some knowledge that may help us in identifying the girl,” Narcissa explained at his raised eyebrows.

The Head of the Malfoy family stepped forward. “During the summer, a girl came through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. It was brought to the Wizengamot in an emergency meeting, and it was decided that she would be housed in the Department of Mysteries for testing and questioning. The following day, she disappeared altogether.” He paused. “Before the girl was taken, it was gathered that she was from an alternate universe, _however_ , she seemed to know a lot about our own.”

Severus stilled, taking in the information. “You believe whoever took her, did so for her knowledge.”

Lucius nodded. “Yes.”

“Does anyone outside of the Wizengamot know any of this?” Severus asked, disliking where this was going.

“Outside of the Wizengamot, only three Unspeakables know,” Lucius said. “The two that found her, and the Head Unspeakable.”

“The only person in the castle who would have access to this information is Dumbledore.”

The two Malfoys exchanged a glance.

Severus could feel his rage rushing through him. Yet another child Dumbledore had hurt. Yet another child Dumbledore had _failed_.

Narcissa placed a hand on his arm. “Breathe,” she commanded.

Occluding, pushing the anger away behind walls, Severus took a steadying, calming breath. “She will not be able to stay in the castle if it was Dumbledore.”

“She will stay with us,” Lucius stated. “Malfoy Manor is well-protected, and you will be able to visit without it being suspicious.”

Narcissa nodded. “The girl will need a Healer, which I can be. You are too busy here, as a professor, to do so yourself.”

Severus could see the sense in it, but irrationally, a part of him wanted to keep the girl close. He felt protective over her, almost as if she was one of his Slytherins, despite never having spoken to her, despite not knowing her name. He pushed this away and agreed.

Narcissa led the way to his room, where the girl was still unconscious, dosed with the Draught of Living Death. She had not moved since that morning, not even a strand of hair had fallen out of place.

Narcissa let out a controlled exhale. “She looks like a ghost.”

Ignoring the comment, Severus strode forwards and pulled the antidote out of his robe pocket. He pinched her nose, forcing her lips to part slightly, tipped the vial into her mouth. Stepping back, Severus re-pocketed the now empty vial.

“How long until she wakes?” Lucius asked, glancing over at his friend.

“Anytime from now.”

It was a few minutes before the girl began to stir, blinking slowly as she fought to wake. Panic suddenly wrought across her features. She struggled to sit up, her arms shaking with the strain of pushing her upright, gasping. Her eyes gained a watery sheen, her breathing quickening.

Narcissa moved forward quickly, sitting gracefully on the edge of the bed and taking the girl’s hands in her own. “You are safe,” she stated softly. “He cannot get to you, here. You are _safe_.”

The girl’s green eyes latched onto Lady Malfoy’s grey ones, and the elegant woman whispered affirmations of safety until finally, the girl calmed.

“My name is Narcissa Malfoy,” she introduced gently. “This is my husband Lucius, and this is Professor Severus Snape. He rescued you.”

Recognition flickered across the girl’s features at their names. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She frowned and tried again, beginning to panic.

“It’s okay,” Narcissa said quickly. “You have been through quite the ordeal. It might take a few hours to get your voice back.”

Thinking quickly, Severus summoned a self-inking quill and a sheet of parchment. He stepped forward and held them out to her. “Perhaps you can write your name.”

Hesitantly, the girl took the quill and parchment with shaky hands. Slowly, she drew out wobbly letters – the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse still affecting her mobility – and her frustration at the difficulty writing presented was clear in her expression. Eventually, she held the parchment up so that they could see.

_Lia Aikaterine Everleigh_

“Are you the girl who came through the Veil?” Lucius asked. “At the Department of Mysteries,” he elaborated for her benefit.

She nodded.

“You have questions,” Narcissa said.

Lia nodded again and picked back up the quill.

They waited patiently as she wrote out her questions.

_What are you going to do with me? What is the date? Where am I?_

“The date is September 14th, 1994,” Severus answered. “And you are in my quarters at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

“And we are going to _help_ you,” Narcissa finished firmly. “We’re going to take you to Malfoy Manor, where you will have time to heal.”

_Why would you help me?_

It was Lucius who answered. “Magical children should be treasured and protected.” His belief in this topic echoed clearly in his tone. “To hurt a child is the worst sin.”

Lia frowned. _I’m not magical. Am I?_

Narcissa squeezed her hand. “When Severus and I were healing you, we checked for a magical core. Yours has been busy keeping you alive but when you are well, you will be able to practice magic.”

Severus watched her expression carefully. He could tell, easily, that she was overwhelmed. This he could understand; her circumstances had been very different when she had last been conscious. She bit down hard on her lip, looking between all of them wildly.

“We have our suspicions,” Severus said, cutting through her brewing panic attack, “but we must ask. Who hurt you?”

Lia’s expression shut down as she wrote out her answer – all emotion wiping away as she held up the parchment.

_Albus Dumbledore_

The three adults exchanged a look.

Severus stiffened as he felt a familiar, unwanted, presence at the entrance to his quarters. He turned to Lucius.

“We need to get her out of here.”


	2. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a few months have passed since the Prologue, so please be prepared for that. Things have changed from canon already, for the Malfoys, Snape and Harry. (Harry will lead the next chapter).

**One**

Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy looked up at Riddle Manor, their expressions determinedly blank. The sun had set six hours ago, and the December chill was fighting to break through the heating charms on their robes, whipping at their faces and turning their noses pink.

Inside the manor, was the man they had sworn their lives to and a rat. The rat would be easy enough to overpower, but neither were sure just how strong the Dark Lord was, even in the weak form Lia had claimed him to be in. The mission was deceptively simple: kidnap Pettigrew, Nagini and the Dark Lord. They had already decided they would go for Pettigrew and Nagini first, without whom the Dark Lord would, hopefully, be easy to incapacitate.

Lucius turned to his friend. “Are you ready to do this, Severus? He is…”

Severus cut the blonde off with a glare.

Sighing, Lord Malfoy looked back to Riddle Manor. “Very well. Let us get this over with. Narcissa will kill us both if we do not have this done before Lia wakes up.”

The corner of Severus’s mouth quirked at the mention of the girl. “I think she will be more creative than just killing us.”

Lucius rolled his eyes.

The pair moved forwards silently, their disillusionment charms hiding them from any potential, unlikely, onlookers.

Inside the manor was just as desolate and forgotten as the outside. Dust lined every surface, and the strong smell of rot and mould clung to the air. It was difficult for them both to see the signs of life: the scuffs in the dust on the floor, the burnt down candlesticks… It was more difficult to believe that the Dark Lord was staying in such a place.

They found Pettigrew first.

The filthy rat was in the kitchen, desperately trying to salvage some recipe they couldn’t identify, it was so black and smoking. They stunned him from behind and, using a portkey, sent him to the dungeons of Malfoy Manor.

Lucius led the way higher up into the manor and they checked each floor thoroughly before moving onto the next. It wasn’t until they reached the third that they found the Dark Lord; golden, flickering light leading them to the master bedroom, the door ajar.

Severus had to resist retching. A deformed, twisted, bone-white _thing_ was curled in black material before the fire, asleep. _This_ had to be the Dark Lord, the description matching the one Lia had given them. Unable to look, Severus let Lucius stun it and transport it to Malfoy Manor.

All that was left was Nagini.

The snake was harder to track down, but with a ‘point-me spell’ they soon found her in the overgrown gardens, hunting. Severus took care of the snake.

By the time they returned to Malfoy Manor, it was midnight. Narcissa sat, waiting for them, in the receiving room.

“It went well?” she asked.

The two men nodded.

She smiled, visibly relieved. “All that is left is the ritual.”

The Ritual Hall was not within Malfoy Manor itself, but a mile North, directly where three lay lines crossed. Made entirely from glass, it was quite famous amongst the academic community: the optimum ritual spot.

The Hall had already been prepared: silver runes spiralling out across the floor and four objects lay placed in adjoining spirals. A locket, a cup, a ring and a diadem.

Severus could still remember when Lia had first told them about the Dark Lord’s horcruxes. The girl – though she had come so far magically since he had rescued her – hadn’t understood the gravity of what a horcrux meant. She knew it was bad, she did not know everything they entailed. Severus himself had wanted to be sick. To remove the knowledge from his mind completely, however unhelpful that would be to the situation at hand. Even now, two months on, the knowledge turned his stomach.

Gathering the horcruxes themselves had been relatively simple with Lia’s directions. Narcissa, as a Black, easily retrieved Hufflepuff’s Cup from her sister’s vault and Slytherin’s locket from Grimmauld Place. Ravenclaw’s diadem, Severus himself retrieved, being the only one with access to Hogwarts. Lucius and Severus retrieved the ring together, prepared for the curse placed on it. They had all since been locked in the Malfoy’s private vault, until finally it was time to piece back together the Dark Lord’s soul.

Not all of the horcruxes were going to forcefully righted: the diary had already been destroyed, and it proved impossible to create a ritual that included living horcruxes. Designing the one they would use had been impossible enough.

Narcissa levitated the Dark Lord into his position in the ritual, before stepping into her own spiral. Severus and Lucius were already in theirs.

“Whatever happens,” Narcissa said, “do not stop. It _will_ work.”

Lucius grimaced. “Let the fun begin.”

.

When Lia woke it was still night. This wasn’t unusual for her, but this time something was keeping her awake. There was a tingle in the air, the foreboding type that sent chills down your spine, just before something bad happened. Lots of bad things happened to her so she knew what it felt like.

Frowning, Lia sat up, bringing her knees to her chest. “Maia?”

There was a pause, before a house-elf popped into view, bowing low. “What can Maia do for Missy Lia?”

“Where is Sev, Lucius and Cissy?” she asked.

The house elf tugged on her ears. “Maia really ought not to be telling Missy Lia…”

Her heart began to pick up its pace. “Tell me. Please. What’s going on? Where are they?”

Maia looked torn, pulling on her ears and tunic in distress. Just as Lia began to think she wasn’t going to tell her, she blurted, “The Ritual Hall. They’re fixing Master Tom’s soul.”

“What?” she squeaked.

“Missy Lia mustn’t disturb them!” Maia said quickly, wagging her finger. “Missy Lia might ruin the ritual!”

Lia’s grip on her sheets tightened. What if it went wrong? Why hadn’t they told her? What if it killed them? What if she was wrong and the horcruxes hadn’t made him insane and he killed them all? What if it blew up the Hall? What if they got possessed?

She grabbed her wand, ignoring Maia’s protests, and ran out of her room. She ran down the staircases, through the Manor, out of the Manor. She sprinted across the gardens. The Ritual Hall glowed in the distance, taunting. She could hardly breathe. She couldn’t feel her hands.

Lia came to a halt, mere metres from the Hall. She wanted to scream. But it was trapped in her chest. Trapped underneath her hyperventilating breaths and salty tears. She couldn’t lose them. She didn’t even get to say goodbye. Why hadn’t they told her what they were doing?

_“In for four, out for six.”_

Slowly, she regained control of her breathing. Her sharp inhales eventually becoming even and her shaky exhales steady. Her eyelashes stuck together, wet and sticky and she rubbed them, struggling not to fly back into the panic attack that had just shook her. She sat down on the cold concrete path, hugging her knees to her chest.

She couldn’t assume they were going to die. She had to trust they knew what they were doing. Not everything had to end badly.

It was light when finally, Narcissa, Lucius and Severus emerged from the Ritual Hall, a fourth figure between them, using Lucius and Severus as support. Lia jumped to her feet, sprinting to meet them – new tears welling up in her eyes.

“You’re okay!”

Surprised looks greeted her, the surprise turning fond. Narcissa sighed, placing a hand on the girl’s cheek.

“Yes, we are okay,” she said. “You, however, are very cold to the touch.” She gave the small girl a firm look. “How long have you been out here?”

Lia faltered. “I don’t…”

There was a pop and a house-elf appeared, hands on hips: Maia.

“Since 2 Mistress Cissy!” the house-elf cried disapprovingly. “Missy Lia wouldn’t listen to Maia and go inside.”

Catching the stern gazes of those around her, Lia looked down. “I was scared.”

“So you sat outside in the cold like a Gryffindor,” Severus drawled, but there was no bite to it. “You will have to have a pepper-up. There is no need for you to get ill.” Again, was left unspoken. Ever since her time under Dumbledore’s ‘care’, Lia got sick easily and was often sporting a fever or cold.

Tugging at her hands, Lia turned her attention to the fourth, unnamed one. He looked about Severus’s age, with curly dark hair and crimson eyes. His features were cutting and his figure tall but leaning on the two men either side of him there was a soft vulnerability to him.

“Lia,” Narcissa said, “this is Tom.”

“You must be the girl I have to thank for my sanity.” Tom’s voice was new and raspy, but there was still power behind it, authority.

Lia wasn’t sure how to answer.

“Let us go inside and warm up,” Lucius interrupted, “before Maia has us all standing in a corner.” He nodded, bemused, to the indignant house-elf.


	3. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last pre-written chapter so there will likely be a gap until the next one. But, as it's summer, you shouldn't have to wait too long. If anyone is reading this, else nobody will be waiting for anything.

**Two**

Harry rubbed his eyes, leaning heavily on his elbows. The Great Hall was still mostly empty – just a few students from each house up – only serving to remind him just how early in the morning it was. For a Sunday, no less. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first morning he had dragged himself down to the Great Hall before seven, and he highly doubted it would be the last.

The rest of his dormmates were still asleep, snoring loudly, in Ron’s case. If it had been any of the previous years, Harry might’ve been inclined to wait for the redhead to wake up, but as it stood, he still hadn’t quite forgiven him for abandoning him for the better part of a month. He chose not to wait for Hermione either, not fancying the tension that would start between his two friends.

For that very reason – and that he didn’t want to start a panic or be lectured into talking to Dumbledore – he was not about to tell them about the dream he had, had the night before. Unlike the dreams he had in the summer, Harry was sure that this one had been real. Somehow, he had watched through Voldemort’s eyes as the Malfoys and Snape performed some ritual that gave him a body and his sanity. And more startingly, felt _love_ towards them, or more particularly, towards _Snape_.

Dumbledore had made it very clear since his first year that Tom Riddle could not love. In second year, Harry had begun to question this, but now he was sure. Tom Riddle could, in fact, love. And for some reason, he loved Snape.

“You seem confused, but I suppose that is a constant state for you, Potter.”

Groaning, Harry looked up to see Malfoy dropping into the seat across from him. “I am not in the mood, Malfoy.”

The blonde smirked. “Well that is unfortunate, as I am.”

When Malfoy had come to him late-September, asking for a truce, Harry had assumed this meant the Slytherin would leave him alone. It had quickly proven to be entirely incorrect however, as Malfoy had begun popping up everywhere. Begrudgingly, Harry could admit that the blonde _had_ often been helpful when he did pop up: advising him on Rita Skeeter and the First Task: and it had been refreshing having someone _other_ than Hermione and the twins believe him about not entering his name but still. The year was already proving too odd, too weird and too frustrating, _without_ Draco Malfoy suddenly becoming helpful of all things.

He sighed and poured himself another cup of tea. He felt he was going to need it.

“Have you found a date to the Ball?” Malfoy asked, helping himself to the muffin on Harry’s plate.

“No,” he said flatly. He raised an eyebrow. “Are you offering?”

Malfoy gave a wry smile. “Just what would they all think? The headmaster might just keel over.”

Harry paused, blinking. He hadn’t expected that answer but now it was offered, it sounded quite appealing. It _would_ certainly upset a lot of people, most of whom Harry felt like deserved a good upsetting.

“Weasley might throw a fit but then shouldn’t he see the consequences of betraying a friend?”

He could see the manipulation in Malfoy’s words, but honestly, he didn’t care. The blonde was appealing too much to Harry’s inner, very spiteful and bitter, Slytherin.

“You’ll have to show me how to dance,” Harry said finally. “I’m completely useless at it.”

Malfoy grinned wickedly. “I can do that. I will need to take your measurements.”

“For what?”

“Your dress robes.” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “No offence, Potter, but whatever you bought in the summer is not going to be up to my standards.”

Harry could agree with that. They were quite simple and would fit someone twice his size; he got the impression that Mrs Weasley had forgotten that not every fourteen-year-old boy was as tall and broad as Ron. “Fine.”

Malfoy stood. “Keep it a surprise. I can’t wait to see their faces.”

And with that, the Malfoy heir walked off to the Slytherin table. Harry stared after him for a moment, before shaking his head and turning back to his breakfast. Sighing, he grabbed a new muffin (as Malfoy had stolen his) and wondered if the day could get any weirder.

Before anyone could blink, it was the last week of the Autumn Term. Gossip about the Yule Ball seemed to be all anyone could talk about. Harry didn’t believe some of the rumours, like that Professor Karkaroff and Professor Snape would be going together, but it seemed to be a fact that The Weird Sisters were booked. He wasn’t up to date with pop culture in the wizarding world, but from what he gathered, they were the wizarding world’s ACDC.

Some of the professors had given up trying to teach them anything, such as Professor Sprout who just let them have a snowball fight instead of wrapping up plants in scarves and hats, and Professor Flitwick, who just let them play board games all lesson. Others, however, were not so easy to give in. Professor Snape was a shining example. Glaring hatefully at them all, he informed them that he would be testing them on poison antidotes during the last lesson of term. Harry was sure it was the stress of the Tournament, but he was actually glad that Snape outright refused to entertain the Christmas spirit. With the second task looming ahead, he needed all the magical education he could get if he wanted to stay alive. Not everyone agreed with him.

“Evil, he is,” Ron said bitterly that night in the common room. “Springing a test on us on the last day. Ruining the last bit of term with a whole load of revision.”

“Mm…you didn’t exactly strain yourself though, did you?” said Hermione over the top of her potions notes; she was attempting to estimate how much she got right.

“It’s Christmas,” the redhead retorted, cursing as his Exploding Snap castle blew up in his face, singeing off his eyebrows.

“Nice look, Ron…go well with your dress robes, that will.”

Fred and George. The identical twins sat down at the table, either side of Harry, as Ron gingerly felt for his ex-eyebrows.

“Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?” George asked.

“No, he’s off delivering a letter.” Ron’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”

Fred rolled his eyes. “Because George wants to invite him to the ball.”

“Because _we_ want to send a letter, you stupid great prat,” said George.

“Who’d you two keep writing to, eh?”

“Nose out, Ron, or I’ll burn that for you.” Fred waved his wand threateningly. “So… You lot got dates for the ball, yet?”

“Yes,” Harry said, just as Ron said, “Nope.”

Ron looked at him betrayed. “Who?” he demanded.

Harry shrugged. “It’s a surprise.”

“You’re lying then,” Ron decided. “You just don’t want to admit it to these two.”

Harry sighed, closing his Defence textbook.

“Lay off, Ronniekins,” Fred said.

“Yeah,” George picked up, “just because _you_ don’t have a date, doesn’t mean you get to pick on Harry, here.”

“You’d better hurry up,” Fred added, “or all the good ones will be gone.”

Ears turning crimson, Ron snapped back, “Who’re you going with, then?”

“Angelina,” Fred answered, without a trace of embarrassment.

“What?” Ron stared. “You’ve already asked her?”

“Good point.” Fred turned his head and shouted across the common room, “Oi! Angelina!”

The Gryffindor chaser, who had been chatting to Alicia Spinnet on one of the sofas, turned to look over at them.

“What?” she called back.

“Want to come to the ball with me?”

Angelina gave the Weasley twin an appraising sort of look, eyeing him up and down before shrugging. “Alright then,” she said, and turned back to Alicia and continued on chatting.

“There you go,” Fred smirked. “Piece of cake.” He got to his feet, yawning. “We’d better use a school owl then, George, come on…”

The twins left. Ron stopped touching his eyebrows and looked over the table at Harry.

“We _should_ get a move on, you know…ask someone. He’s right. We don’t want to end up with a pair of trolls.”

Vaguely, Harry wondered which dance partner would be more scandalous: Draco Malfoy or a troll. Probably the troll, but at least Malfoy could hold a conversation and wouldn’t try to kill him. Probably. Eh. Let him. It’d certainly be an excuse not to dance.

Meanwhile, Hermione let out a splutter of indignation. “A pair of… _what_ , excuse me?”

“Well – you know,” Ron said casually, “I’d rather go alone than with, with Eloise Midgen, say.”

“Her acne’s loads better lately – and she’s really nice!”

“Her nose is off-centre.”

“Oh, I see,” Hermione snapped, slamming her notebook down on the table. “So basically, you’re going to take the best-looking girl who’ll have you, even if she’s completely horrible?”

“Er – yeah, that sounds about right,” said Ron.

“I’m going to bed,” Hermione said and swept off to the girls’ staircase without another word.

Harry stood himself.

“Where are you going?” Ron asked.

“Dancing lessons,” Harry answered. “I’ll see you later.”

Ignoring Ron’s protesting questions, Harry shrunk his book, pocketed it, and left the common room.

Draco Malfoy was waiting for him in one of the abandoned classrooms on the fourth floor, in a corridor less frequented by the general population of Hogwarts. Harry was confident that only a few students would really know they were there, as typically no-one had reason to go down that wing and it was only accessible on Fridays, anyway.

“You’re late.”

He rolled his eyes, casting a tempus charm. “By a minute.”

Malfoy hopped off one of the desks. “I’m warning you now, Potter, I’ll be leading.”

Personally, Harry thought this was probably wise. As far as he was concerned, leading just left more opportunities for him to mess up. “Fine.”

“The opening dance of a ball is _always_ the chorus ad excipiendum,” Malfoy jumped straight into lecturing. “If you somehow manage to learn it to my standard, I will then teach you the basic waltz.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do all purebloods get dancing lessons?”

“Yes,” the blonde answered without shame. “You should’ve too – it is a disgrace that you barely even know how to dress.”

“I’m not a Pureblood,” Harry corrected immediately.

“Your _family_ is,” Malfoy stated, “which means, as an Heir, you would be expected to have taken dancing and etiquette lessons from the age of three.”

He sighed. “I’m not heir to anything, Malfoy.”

Malfoy stared at him for a long time, his silver eyes boring into Harry’s green ones. Unsettled, Harry began to take a step backwards when Malfoy hissed,

“ _Dumbledore_.”

“What about him?”

“You are coming to the manor for Yule,” Malfoy said, pacing the length of the room. “There is too much to explain and Mother will do it better than I.”

“What _are_ you talking about?” Harry felt flabbergasted. “And I have to be _here_ for Christmas – I have to open the ball remember?”

The Slytherin gave him a look as if to say, “don’t you know anything?”. “Yule is the 22nd this year, Potter. An extra train will be running to allow students to go home and still attend the Yule Ball.”

“Right. You’ve still yet to persuade me to actually go to your house, though, Malfoy.”

“You want to know about your parents, right?” Malfoy said after a while.

Frowning, Harry nodded.

“Come home with me and you’ll get to learn about more than just your parents.” He smirked half-heartedly. “We’re second cousins, once removed, for starters.”

His voice cracked. “What?”

Malfoy shrugged gracefully. “It’s true. So, will you come to the Manor for Yule?”

Harry hesitated. This was quite possibly a very bad idea. In fact, considering what he’d dreamt not too long ago, it was a _terrible_ idea. But, if what Malfoy said was true, that meant there was more than what anyone had told him before. If he was an ‘ _Heir’_ as the blonde had called him, shouldn’t he know what exactly he was Heir of?

“Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll come home with you.”

Malfoy smirked. “Excellent. You best go tell McGonagall you will be on the train tomorrow, Potter.”

“Harry.”

“What?” the blonde frowned.

“It’s Harry,” the Gryffindor corrected, already regretting what he was saying. “If we’re really cousins, as you say, then it’s Harry. Not Potter.”

For the first time in Harry knowing him, Malfoy gave a genuine smile. “Draco, then.”

Yes, this was a very bad idea. But then again, Harry’s bad ideas had ended up saving the school more than once.

Fuck it.


	4. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning   
> (mention of self-harm in this chapter)  
> Late nights at both Malfoy Manor and Gryffindor Tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thank you to the lovely response I've had so far! It genuinely makes me so happy that so many people like it. I'm sorry this chapter took a while but depression is a twatwaffle, as is writer's block.   
> This chapter hasn't been checked over like the others as I don't have a beta and I'm worried if I do, I'll persuade myself not to post it, so please be nice about any typos.

**Three**

“She hurt herself.”

The night was quickly approaching 2am, darkness filling as much of the sky as the last full moon of the year allowed and very few across the country remained awake. In Wiltshire, Severus Snape sat in Malfoy Manor’s library, a glass of Firewhisky in his hand and a Dark Lord to his left. He had snuck away from the school, assured that his house would survive his absence for a few hours.

Crimson eyes flicked over to him. “Did she tell you?”

“No.” Severus swirled the amber liquid meditatively. “When Narcissa and I healed her in the summer, we noted evidence of self-harm that had been going on for years before Dumbledore got to her. We told the house elves to inform us should she hurt herself again.”

Tom didn’t answer, turning his gaze to the roaring fire before them.

“Her recovery has become stagnant,” the potions master continued. “Physically, she is as well as she likely will ever be. But mentally... She cannot hear the headmaster’s name, let alone speak it. The thought of leaving the manor sends her into a panic attack. Narcissa tells me that she wakes up from nightmares at least once a night and is terrified of the dark.”

Tom’s first impression of Lia’s state had been overshadowed by her relief at the Malfoys’ and Severus’s safety and success. Since then, it had been easy to see why they were all so worried. “Have you considered a mind healer?”

Severus paused, looking over to the older man. “Perhaps we should’ve.”

“It would be easy enough to swear one to further secrecy,” Tom added. “They already cannot share what their patients tell them unless it is a safety issue, it can be extended to include not being able to share at all, or even speak of whom they see.”

“I believe one of Octavius Avery’s brothers is a mind healer,” Severus murmured. “But would Lia agree to see him?”

Before Tom could answer, the nearest door opened and the two Malfoys entered, in their nightwear but very much awake. In her hand, Narcissa held a letter, and Lucius’s expression seemed particularly perturbed.

“We thought we would find you in here,” Narcissa said, sitting on the adjacent sofa, swiftly followed by her husband.

“You are awake late,” Severus commented, setting his now empty glass down.

Lucius drew his wand and summoned the bottle of Firewhisky and another glass, pouring himself one. “Draco sent an owl declaring that Mr Potter will be staying for Yule.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “I thought they hated each other?”

“They did,” Severus corrected, vaguely wondering if just one glass had been enough. “Recently, they have been more…amenable since Draco was told to stop antagonising the golden trio.” It left a sort of bitter taste in his mouth. Whilst Lia had brought to light a lot of his failings towards Potter, and a lot of truths as well, he still found it difficult to separate the boy from his father. He had, however, promised to try.

“They are going to the Yule Ball together,” Narcissa said casually, an amused twinkle to her eye. She held the letter out to them.

Tom took it and read aloud for Severus’s benefit. “Dear Mother and Father,” he began, “I am writing to inform you that I have invited Harry Potter to stay with us this Yule and he has accepted. We will also be attending the ball together and I would greatly appreciate it if you can book an appointment with Monsieur DuPont as he will need to be measured for suitable robes. I have not told him that Tom is staying with us – nor about the mystery girl you still haven’t told me anything about! – but if you can persuade Tom not to kill him, I will persuade him not to kill Tom. Draco.”

Despite himself, Severus snorted softly. “I cannot wait to see the headmaster’s face.”

“You will have to send me the memory,” Tom smirked. “I am sure it will prove an excellent Yule gift.”

There was a moment of shared humour between the four adults, before they sobered into a heavy silence. Lucius took his wife’s hand, sensing her nerves.

“I am worried for Lia’s reaction,” she said softly. “She is still so fragile.”

Severus exchanged a glance with Tom. He knew that Narcissa saw the latest addition to their lives as a daughter and truthfully, he could not say he did not feel the same. “Tom suggested that we find her a mind healer.”

“I was wondering something similar,” Lucius sighed. “But will she accept the proposal? It took her months to learn to trust us.”

Narcissa frowned. “I think Lia mentioned that she used to see someone. Something called a psychologist, I believe. In her old life.”

“A muggle mind healer,” Severus translated. “This does not mean she would see one now.”

“We can ask,” Lucius said and swallowed the whisky in his glass. “Heavily emphasising the secrecy vows that would be required,” he added.

“I will talk to her in the morning,” Narcissa decided. “About a mind healer and about Mr Potter.”

.

Harry closed the heavy book before him with a loud _thud_ and an exhausted sigh. After agreeing to go to the Malfoys for Yule, he had went straight to Professor McGonagall to tell her he was going home for Christmas and then sprinted across the castle to the library to check out every book on protection, vows and contracts that he could find in the five minutes before curfew. Ron had given him an odd look at the stack of tomes in Harry’s arms and Hermione had almost died of happiness, but ultimately, he was eventually left alone in the common room to trawl through the texts.

The hours ticked by both slowly and worryingly fast. Most of the books he had pulled from the library shelves were dry and written by stuffy old men who used very long sentences that told him nothing. The rest, whilst interesting in places, followed a similar style. However, he had to find something that could work before morning, so he pushed through, glancing at the clock every five minutes.

It was the last book he turned to that proved the most useful. Battered and dusty, it was on protection contracts and agreements of neutrality. Whilst the section on neutrality was interesting and could prove useful in the future, Harry focused mostly on the protection contracts. Dawn was quickly approaching when he finally finished the book – a stack of notes on his right – words and clauses swimming around his head.

It was quite simple in conclusion. He had to write a contract, charm it, and then persuade Draco to sign it. It would ensure his safety whilst at Malfoy Manor as breach of the contract meant that the signer would lose their magic. Harry could not imagine anything more horrible – particularly for a pureblood – and so felt assured that the contract meant he would live to see New Year.

Moments like this, reminded Harry of just why the Sorting Hat had wanted to put him in Slytherin. When it came to it, he could be just as sneaky, ruthless and self-preserving as the snakes.

Now he just had to write the contract.

The early risers of Gryffindor (there weren’t many) had started trickling down to the common room by the time that Harry set down his quill, hand cramping painfully. He was relatively pleased with the final draft.

‘Contract of Safety between Harry James Potter and Draco Lucius Malfoy

From the period of Saturday 17th December 1994 to Saturday 24th December 1994, Draco Lucius Malfoy swears that Malfoy Manor will be a place of safety and refuge to Harry James Potter. Draco Lucius Malfoy agrees that Harry James Potter will not be harmed or killed whilst at Malfoy Manor and should external forces attempt to infiltrate Malfoy Manor, he will protect Harry James Potter to the best of his ability during this time period. Draco Lucius Malfoy also promises that between these dates, Harry James Potter will not be purposefully harmed or killed by Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Severus Snape or Tom Marvolo Riddle.

In return, Harry James Potter promises that he will not attack any member of the Malfoy family unless attacked first between Saturday 17th December 1994 to Saturday 24th December 1994.

Breach of this contract by either party will result in the offender’s forfeit of magic.

Signed: _Harry James Potter_ and ­­­­­_________’

All he needed was to charm it and get Draco’s signature. 

“Harry? Have you been awake all night?”

Blinking, Harry looked up at the voice of one Hermione Granger, who looking at him in a mixture of disapproval and surprise.

“Er, yeah?”

The bookworm shook her head and sat down across from him. “What are you so interested in anyway?”

For a moment, Harry debated whether or not he ought to tell Hermione his holiday plans. He decided he should as if anyone was going to correctly charm the contract, it would be her. “I have been looking into contracts and vows all night as to ensure my safety when I go to Malfoy Manor.”

Whatever Hermione had been expecting, it was not that. Her lips thinned. “And why, exactly, are you going to Malfoy Manor?”

“Apparently I am an Heir which means I’m important or something and no-one told me,” Harry stated bluntly. “Also, Draco and I are cousins.”

“Draco?” she repeated, horrified.

He bristled, trying to remind himself that from Hermione’s point of view, he had become magically friends with their playground enemy overnight. “He apologised to me at the end of September asking for a truce. Since then, he has helped me with the tournament and is now offering to teach me about my family.”

Hermione sighed irritably, pinching her nose. “You’re just now telling me all of this? Really, Harry?”

Harry didn’t say anything.

“Have you told Ron?”

“No and I’m not going to.” He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t feel like testing out friendship a second time so soon.”

Exasperated understanding and distress flitted across her face. “Malfoy is who you’re taking to the ball, isn’t he?”

Harry shrugged.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I have to know what he knows about my family. Knowing what I’m doing doesn’t come into it.”

Hermione looked pained as she held out her hand. “Let me see the contract.”

He passed it over.

“You owe me, Harry Potter.” She gave him a hard look. “And when you get back, you are telling me _everything._ ”

The corners of his lips twitched upwards. “Of course.”


End file.
